My Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy
by Pepper Moonchild
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale meet at the Ritz and down a few drinks, starting a night filled with giggles, biting, and lyrics from a certain Queen song...


Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own any of these characters (otherwise they'd be strapped to my bed posts… hehe) – they belong to the amazing Neil and Terry.

A/N: There are a few footnotes scattered throughout this – they're marked by little degree marks (˚) and you can find the actual footnote at the end of its respective paragraph in italics with the corresponding number of circle things. (There may be a few paragraphs with more than one footnote…) I'm a review whore, so it'd be nice if you could be so kind. Happy reading.

9 o'clock˚ met Crowley at a dimly candlelit table at the Ritz. The alarm on his sleek little gadget of a watch went off. Beneath the dark rims of his sunglasses, golden irises peered about the room; scanning quickly for any sign of his friend. ˚_Precisely._

9 o'clock met Aziraphale under some of the bright flashy sort of billboards London was chock full of. He was traveling along with a sort of skip-run, eliciting many a stare from the passersby˚. Aziraphale chose not to notice the comments and instead hurried along as his knit scarf bumped silently along on the front of his argyle sweater-vest. ˚_Including a young man decked out in combat-rock gear remarking something about faeries dancing about._

Narrowing his eyes for a second, there was something that almost sounded like a hiss that escaped Crowley's lips. His waiter had come by again, and feeling a tad impatient, he ordered a bottle of their finest vintage. He let the young freckled man pour the wine into two glasses, but didn't bother to take a sip.

Aziraphale coughed a couple of times as he stopped in front of the door to the much-too-_lavish­_-for-thou Ritz. He ran a pale, slender hand through his golden locks. Worrying about the almost-Armageddon had done him good. It was like he had a new glow to his already bubbly aura. But then again, there were _other things_ that could cause just such radiance. Stepping in and nodding to the host that he knew where his reserved table was, he set off to find Crowley.

A rather abrupt and curt sounding cough came from behind Aziraphale˚ and he spun around to find Crowley staring up at him with arched brows. "Honestly, Aziraphale," he said as the angel took a seat opposite him, "if you can't manage to find your place around _here_, the place we've been coming to since it was _open_, then how on earth you manage to keep all your damn books in order?" A smirk tugged at the edge of his lips. ˚_After he'd circled the room twice too many times and gotten more than his fair share of confused looks from the other patrons._

Aziraphale sniffed testily and quirked a brow at his companion, "Well, it just so happens I was going to tell you about the shop, and you've given me the perfect introduction."

"I'm so very glad that I'm sitting here with someone who doesn't even know how to attempt sarcasm and is absolutely _terrible_ at pretending to be peeved," Crowley shot back snidely as he bared his teeth in a grin.

"Hush! I have good reason to be cross!"

"Why? Someone ruffle your _feathers_?" He chuckled at his own joke.

Aziraphale stared at him.

"All right, all right, fine. I'm sorry, I must have forgotten to turn on my charm because it's… oh…" he glanced down at his watch fleetingly, not bothering to register any of the numbers, "9:37 right now and someone has kept me waiting here since nine… but no matter. Charm is on. Do tell your old chum what's gotten you into such a tizzy." If there had been an award for the most _bite_ put into one's words, Crowley would have won˚. He folded his hands neatly upon the table and smiled primly, and not to mention rather artificially, at his friend. ˚_Both gold and silver medal._

"Oh don't give me that. You know who stopped in today?"

"The Queen of England? Dick, our waiter? The entire viola section of the London Philharmonic Orchestra?"

"Would you at least _pretend_ to be interested?"

"I am!"

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, "All right fine. Anyways – it was _that woman_."

Crowley responded right away, it seemed his friend had actually perked his interest, "The Cat one?"

Aziraphale's Cat lady was no less bothersome than the traditional sort, even if she wasn't as hard on the eyes. Instead of actually _being_ a cat lady, with a posse of cats following her about, there was just something distinctly _feline_ about this woman. Aziraphale thought it was something to do with her eyes and the severe liner that flipped up at the corners of her grass-green eyes. Crowley, who had seen this woman on a number of occasions, thought that it also might have something to do with the fact that she always had too-red lipstick, some overly sharp looking teeth, and an infinite number of very 1990s animal print very-tight-with-_spillage_-in-certain-areas mini-dresses with matching heels. He happened to think she was rather foxy. Somehow, this woman had seen Aziraphale in the window of his shop, trying to alphabetize some new findings, and became absolutely smitten with his rosy cheeks, part 1950s-part 1970s fashion sense, and his golden ringlet curls. Ever since then, she'd stopped into the shop just about as often as the other cat lady to try and woo him over – which meant that she spent much time trying to bend over in front of the angel. But this was mostly just to poke fun at Aziraphale. Which happened to be a great source of entertainment for Crowley when he hung out at the shop during selling hours; hearing Aziraphale say, "Oh dear!" and walk away completely flustered never got old.

"That's the one."

Crowley chuckled, "Give you a peep-show of anything new this time 'round?" He ventured to take of sip of his wine.

The angel blinked a couple of times, and took a large swig from his glass too, eliciting another laugh from his friend. "Well if you count her bending over my counter… and like… _lying_ on it with her…"

Five and a half bottles of wine later, the two were chummy as ever, the plights of Aziraphale and his Cat lady gone with the first bottle. There were more important things to discuss.

"Well, wit' you patt'ring away on your phone earlier this aft'rnoon, I thought… well, I don' know..." The wine's effects were finally making an impact on the angel's speech.

The demon pointed a finger slowly at Aziraphale, "Naw, y'know wha' I think? I think we 'afta get outta 'ere, cuz ol' Dick is getting a li'l testy…" He giggled and nodded his head towards the boy who had a less-than-pleased look on his freckle smattered face.

"Point taken!" Aziraphale stood up quickly, throwing one end of his scarf around his neck again. Then he realized that he had had done that too fast, and as he started to wobble, he steadied himself on the back of his chair.

"Easy there, angel. Would'n' wan' you to take a tumble..." Crowley paused for a second and sounded the word out, "Tumble… Hm. Tum-ble. Tumble. Tumbly-bumbly…" In the back of his head he'd already had a song made up. He stopped for a second, as if something had just stricken him and he reached into the side-pocket of his blazer. Crowley pulled out a billfold and laid a hefty wad of quid down on the table and took a smaller wad out of the collection. He stood up to leave and walked over to Dick, whispering something in his ear and tucking the small wad of cash into the boy's pocket.

As the two sauntered out of the nearly empty restaurant and onto the street, Aziraphale leaned over towards Crowley and asked in a loud whisper, "What was that 'bout?"

Crowley grinned, "Last night."

Aziraphale stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, "_What_?"

"Chill out, angel. 'm only joking… the boy deserves a li'l extra som'in' after 'aving to deal with _us_ all nigh'."

Thinking about it for a moment, Aziraphale nodding in agreement and giggled, "S'pose so."

"Nah – it was jus' for the table by th' back window… 'pparently some uppity yuppie 'ad reserved it, but I pulled a few strings."

"You 'ad… _you know_ wit' him?"

"No! I gave 'im fi'ty quid. Good Lor— Erm… good gracious Az'raphale, I'm no' _that_ bad… besides… freckles aren't my thing… So what'd'you want to do now?" Crowley jammed his hands into the pockets of his tight, black slacks.

Aziraphale shrugged noncommittally and earned rather gawking stare from Crowley, "You've got _nothing_ 'n mind?" The angel shrugged again, tugging at the fraying yarn near the bottom of his scarf.

"Oh come now! There's so much we can do… there's… there's um… eh— Maybe we should sober up…" Crowley scrunched up his chiseled features for a moment while he let the alcohol evaporate from his corporation.

Aziraphale followed suit, saying, "See? You can' think of anything either!"

Crowley took the challenge, "Of course I can! Um… I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of _sad_ things...? We can do the tango just for two…? Um… I can serenade and gently pull on your heartstrings? Orrrr, I can be a Valentino just for you? We can think of those long hot, summer nights… remember back in the 18th century? Yeah, I know you do… I see you smiling… Or better yet! You can sit on my hot seat of love and tell me how you feel… or just you can just feel _my_—"

_Smack_. "Crowley!"

The shaded man smirked impishly.

"You're absolutely pathetic. You can't even think of anything on your own – You're using those bloody song lyrics," he looked at Crowley with a wayward smirk of his own.

Crowley couldn't help but giggle loudly and widen his grin. "Well come on, we can get into my _saloon_ and I'll take us back to yours?"

Aziraphale shook his head at him in mock disapproval, "That will be fine."

Crowley tossed his keys in the air and turned the corner, walking up to his Bentley, "Come on and get it."

Aziraphale only smiled as he slipped into the passenger's seat.˚˚_He couldn't help but feel like that Batman and Robin duo he'd seen on the telly -- him being Robin right now, as he never really drove the Bentley… but he knew who was really the little Robin. Well… not little per se… _

The lock on the shop door clicked as the keys spun below the doorknob. Aziraphale pushed the door open and stepped in, waiting for Crowley to come inside.

Crowley waltzed into the shop and looked around at the familiar things.

Aziraphale shuddered as he took a deep breath, closing the door behind him, "It still _smells_ like her... It's not going to leave for days…" He groaned softly.

Crowley took his opportunity and ran with it, "Is that what you did when she did this…?" He wandered over to the shop-counter and lay back upon it, trying to look vampy as possible.

Aziraphale glared, "Get off of that. You're going to mess it up. Took me fifteen minutes to straighten it after she messed it up."

"Another fifteen minutes I'm sure I was kept waiting, eh?" Crowley retorted jokingly as he shifted his legs a bit and glanced at his watch.

"You. Get off. Now."

"Or what?" Crowley's smirk was back as slid his sunglasses up with a slender, but slightly tanned hand.

Aziraphale had been slowly making his way over to his guest, and he stood over him with such a don't-fuck-with-me face that Crowley almost backed down.

But he knew better.

"You keep saying _get off_…I mean, if that's what you _really_ want me to do, I don't think I could disappoint…" the demon could barely conceal the laughter from his voice as he let his hand snake downwards from his glasses to the loops on his pants.

Aziraphale didn't move. He stood there and watched Crowley with such intensity that, again, Crowley almost stopped. A few seconds passed by and Aziraphale let his hands slink down towards Crowley's arms. He pushed both of Crowley's wrists towards the other side of the counter forcefully as he made his way up on top of the counter too.

He perched over Crowley's prostrate body, looking at him with the smile of the devil himself. "I told you to stop," he said softly as he leaned down and hovered above Crowley's lips. The air flowed so softly out of the angel's lips that Crowley could scarcely feel it and he parted his lips slightly, running his tongue over them in longing. Aziraphale lowered his head slowly, making Crowley's snake-like tongue flicker out once again – this time in anticipation. A glint of _something_ shone in Aziraphale's eyes as he steered away from Crowley's ever-ready lips and towards his ear. "You're going to learn your lesson…" And with that, the angel backed away, and sat back on his heels, towering over the demon.

Crowley involuntarily tried to come up after Aziraphale, but the angel pressed a hand to his chest, preventing him from doing so. To the blond's delight, his companion's breathing had grown erratic and shallow. Aziraphale let his eyes wander downwards; it seemed that Crowley was quite willing to take whatever Aziraphale was going to give him.

The demon blinked a couple of times, looking up at Aziraphale with his wanton, but somehow vulnerable, amber eyes. A flicker of something crossed his face; the angel couldn't tell if it was confusion or fear. Inwardly, Aziraphale noted to himself that a rush of excitement boiled deep inside of him in a place just below his stomach. It was a churning feeling that made him feel like someone had just flipped his insides around and hurried to put them back again. He liked that feeling… it had a certain amount of power to it. He found when he harnessed that power, it was like he could do anything – and he _did_.

"Are you going to listen to me now?" Aziraphale asked his companion, his voice reduced to a silky, yet slimily slick, cadence.

Crowley exhaled shakily. He hazily remembered he didn't actually _have_ to breathe… but it was getting so hard not to – yet in a twistedly paradoxical way, he couldn't _find_ his breath. "Y—y—" It seemed that he couldn't find words either.

"Is that a _yes_ I hear?" he blond quirked a flawlessly shaped brow.

A quivering nod was made in reply. He swallowed hard.

The angel's lips rose in a decidedly serpentine smile, "Well then," he said just above a whisper. Slowly, he let his hands travel to Crowley's black, button-down shirt and he pressed his fingers on each of the buttons – making his way up to the demon's neck. Aziraphale's fingers hovered above Crowley's neck for a second before he let them downwards again, unbuttoning each little disc with the utmost care.

Crowley lay there, prostrate and powerless.

When all the buttons had been attended to by Aziraphale's slender fingers, the angel pushed the center of the shirt open, revealing the demon's gorgeously tanned chest. Gradually, Aziraphale lowered himself over Crowley until he was face to face with him, their lips almost touching. Crowley knew better than to dare sneak a kiss, still subdued. Dipping down further, the angel's tongue glazed a fine sheen over Crowley's trembling lips. The demon's eyes fluttered shut and he almost cursed at the feather-light kisses he felt trailing down from his lips onto his chest.

An approving smirk crossed Aziraphale's angelic face as he looked up to Crowley, a roguish glint in his eyes. He slid his tongue softly over one of Crowley's nipples before blowing on it softly, making it just as hard as certain other appendages.

The cool air breezed over the demon's chest, eliciting a gasp. Slightly disappointed in his lack of self-control, he bit down on the corner of his bottom lip, looking lustier than ever.

Just as the soft, pinkish area had budded, Aziraphale lowered his mouth over it, suckling it gently. Then he bit down. Hard.

Crowley's eyes jerked open, and he bit violently harder upon his lip; a lightning bolt of bliss seared through his middle to the spot just below his belt buckle. He became even more resolute to fight his lover. There was a rebel inside of him˚, something that didn't want to give up or give in – he would win this little battle of wills. Or at least try – and if he could help it, he would severely enjoy it. ˚_He was a demon, after all…_

The angel saw the determination in Crowley's eyes; the determination not to cry out in pleasure. He chuckled softly, and let his tongue start to roam again – ever downwards, ever slower. Aziraphale paused just above Crowley's belt and he exhaled softly on to the slim stream of hair leading below his waist. Deftly, his fingers worked to unbuckle the belt and to free the button of Crowley's black slacks. He reached up and helped the demon shrug off his blazer and shirt. Then he got off of Crowley and the shop-counter, pulling off his shoes and socks. Afterwards, Aziraphale hooked his fingers into the demon's belt loops and pulled down.

He had freed the tiger.

Crowley ran a hand through his ebony hair, ruffling it up a bit in the back. He didn't like the fact that his hand was still shaking in nervous anticipation. He didn't like the slight draft that ran through the store, seemingly straight to his _passion_, yet not affecting it. And he sure as _hell_ didn't like the way that Aziraphale stood at the end of the counter, leering down at him.˚ ˚_Well, maybe he liked it a little bit…._

Then it dawned upon the demon that standing before him was the most beautiful creature in the world. Tall, slim, and elegant. A face that looked like it was carved from the finest Italian marble. The finest locks of golden hair with such a perfect sheen that even now, in the dark of the musty old shop, it looked like he had a halo.

In that exact moment, something in Crowley changed. He shifted his weight onto one of his arms and pushed himself up and off of the counter, onto the floor next to Aziraphale. He stood in front of the angel, looking down at his cerulean eyes with a feral spark in his own golden orbs.

Aziraphale stood there, a tad surprised at the sudden outburst. Standing there had cost him the playing field, and he knew it…

Suddenly, Crowley reached out for the angel's shoulders, grabbing him and pulling him in for a fierce kiss. He hit Aziraphale's lips, hard, and in the same instant, the demon pushed his lover towards the wall behind the beat-up sofa and behind the dusty counter-top. They thudded brutally against the wall, Aziraphale taking the impact with a badly disguised grunt.

The two fought for dominance in their kiss as their hands found themselves roaming freely upon each other. Crowley couldn't get Aziraphale's clothes off fast enough and ended up clawing futilely against the argyle. Hurriedly, the demon slipped his hands beneath the angel's sweater and shirt, pushing violently upwards in efforts to get them off. The fabric and buttons scratched painfully against Aziraphale's face, but he took no notice, instead pulling at his lover's hips.

The demon shook his friend's hands off and instead crouched down onto the backs of his heels, working his own skills upon the angel's belt and pants. They were off in half the time his own trousers were gone.

It was Crowley's turn to smirk in that leering, serpentine-way as he saw the angel's length. "I knew you couldn't fool me about what was underneath those damn khakis," he joked acidly.

The angel blushed and looked away, his past vigor subsiding quickly.

The demon's tongue flickered in and out; it was hungry for a taste of _something_. Unlike his companion, Crowley worked quickly and before Aziraphale knew it, he could feel the warmth of Crowley's tongue pressing faintly along the side of his crotch. The forked tongue came painfully close to the Aziraphale's length, and the angel found himself longing for air. As soon as the sensation of Crowley's tongue had come, it left and Crowley was standing upright once again. The brunet leaned in towards the fairer of the two and landed a gentle kiss upon his neck, and in a brutal dose of reciprocation he bit down. Hard.

A faint whimper was all that could be heard from behind the angel's bitten lips.

"Not so _cocky_ now, are we?" Crowley growled into Aziraphale's ear as he bit down again.

Crowley bit his way up to Aziraphale's lips, leaving deep crimson bruises along the trail. They kissed again, this time with all the fervor of the last, as Crowley subtly slid a hand up Aziraphale's side, across his chest and to the back of his head. There, the demon entwined his own slender fingers within the precious locks with ardor. He broke the kiss for a moment, his eyes darting towards the door just to their left that led into the backroom of the store. Split-second decisions were his specialty and he pulled Aziraphale into the backroom with him.

Aziraphale fell against the table roughly, one of Crowley's hands pressed aggressively against his chest, the other swiping books and oddments off of the table. Distantly, Aziraphale heard a loud thud and it registered in his head that Crowley had pushed one of his older, rarer editions carelessly upon the floor. For a moment, he snapped out of his lust, "That's _my book_!" he exclaimed rather shrewdly.

Crowley paid no attention to the angel's inane comments and instead let his hand float over a certain patch between the angel's legs, his fingers caressing Aziraphale with the utmost dexterity.

Aziraphale stopped talking in mid-sentence. It was as if the words were chopped up into little bits and thrown out into the wind. His mind went blank as the rhythm and skill of Crowley's playing increased. His eyes blurred and in a heavy, lustful sort of way, he wrapped an arm around Crowley's neck and pulled him in for another kiss.

This one was different; there was a different sort of need in this one, something more _urgent_. Aziraphale tried to tell Crowley what he wanted, their tongues coming together with frantic necessity. "Oh Go—" he stopped. There was absolutely no way that he could speak the Lord's name at such a time. "Oh – oh… _ohhhh_…" Crowley's strokes had become harder and faster, exactly what Aziraphale wanted, but couldn't quite manage to say.

"Ah, we like that, don't we, Angel?" the demon hissed into his lover's ear.

Aziraphale shuddered as he felt the hot breath swirling next to his ear; he couldn't speak.

"Tell me you're sorry."

"Hnh…?"

"Tell me you're sorry about earlier. Out in the shop."

The angel's eyes focused for a moment and the roguish look came back into them before he uttered a simple, "No."

Crowley's found his eyes darkening a little, narrowing as he brought his head back up again to look at the angel, "You will be."

Aziraphale's breath caught as he felt Crowley's hardened flesh against the small of his back. The demon had lifted his hips and started feeling around for the magic spot. The trembling that had afflicted Crowley earlier had transferred to the angel, and he vaguely wondered if he didn't like this as much. Both sides had their ups and downs; there was something about having it both ways that felt so much more _satisfying_.

Before he knew it, Crowley had found it.

Aziraphale arched his back painfully high as Crowley's fingers dug into his hips. The demon pounded in and out of him relentlessly; each thrust deeper and deeper, each more vicious than the one before. The demon bent his head so that his lips grazed the tip of the angel's ear. His breath was ragged and hot against the side of Aziraphale's face, and the mere sound of the breathing stimulated him that much more. Once again, one of Crowley's hands snaked towards Aziraphale's arousal swiftly and before the angel knew it, he was being brought to the brink of insanity.

Before either of them expected, their pulsating came to a frenzied pace. Their breathing was shallow and uneven. Their movements became jerky. Their legs became so entwined that discerning their owner was impossible. Their muscles flexed and began to twitch in anticipation. Their eyes glazed over in passion.

Within moments, lips were bitten and moans could be heard from the backroom of the little bookshop on the corner.

Aziraphale wiped the sweat from his brow and pushed his golden locks out of his eyes, "Well that was rather enjoyable." A sly smile graced his lips as he looked over at his friend.  
"Oh, _quite_," was the reply that came. Crowley had a smirk of his own as he looked at the radiant angel next to him.

The angel chuckled, "You rascal," and he reached over and tussled Crowley's hair.

The brunet quirked a brow, "You mean lover-boy?"

"Right. Yes. My good old-fashioned lover-boy."

The two stared intently into each other's eyes for a moment before bursting into laughter, not noticing as a steady rainfall began outside the shop.

_Fin_

A/N #2: Not _quite_ sure if I'm completely happy with the outcome – there might be some changes to it. I've never written slash before… But I guess there's a first time for everything. Cheers.


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